


Hands

by Luthorchickv2



Series: A Family for Thomas [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen, Hurt Thomas, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:45:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthorchickv2/pseuds/Luthorchickv2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas's hand is giving him problems and Sybbie is just like her mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> My excuse for this is that Thomas had sort of mellowed after events of season 5.

Sybbie is 5 now and there are things about the house where she lives that she doesn't exactly understand. She knows she has to treat the people who live below stairs differently that her family. She knows she is not allowed to ask Thomas for hugs or to be held if there are the people around. She had once when they were all in the library and Donk had taken her aside and said it wasn't right to ask the servants for hugs. She asked why when Thomas was so nice to her. Donk just said she'd understand when she got older. So she learned not to bother Thomas when other people were around.

It took some time but eventually she figured out by exploring that if she snuck into the yard behind the house right after her nanny put her down for quiet time that she could often find Thomas there smoking. She could hug him then, which was good because he always looked sad. She had asked her Papa once why Thomas always looked sad. Her Papa had hugged and kissed her check and said that Thomas didn't have a little girl of his own to make him happy with hugs and kisses. She didn't want Thomas to be sad so she tried to hug him when she could.

It was with this in mind that she snuck down the back stairs with a careful eye out for the maids. She zipped through the conservatory and out a side door. It was cold out and while the snow from Christmas had melted away more would come. A quick left around the house and a duck through the hedges brought her to the yard in back where Thomas smoked usually.

Sometimes she got caught sneaking out and sometimes she fell asleep before she could sneak out and sometimes he wasn't there. But she was lucky today and he was there, though but he wasn't smoking. He was curled over his hand, the one he always wore a glove on and would never answer questions about, with a look on his face like the one Papa had after her pony had kicked him.

She crept closer. “Thomas?” He jerked his head up and thrust his hand behind his back before she could see.

“Miss Sybbie, you should be inside. It’s too cold out here and you aren’t wearing a jacket.” He tried to smile at her but she could tell it wasn’t real.

“What’s wrong with your hand, Thomas?” She tugged at his arm hoping to pull his hand back to the front.

“It’s not for your eyes, Miss. Now let’s get you in before you catch your death.” But she was stubborn and kept pulling at his arm.

“If you’re hurt you should tell someone. That’s what you and Papa said to do. Why won’t you tell me?” His arm, made strong from years of carrying trays did not budge.

“I was hurt a long time ago, before you were born. I told someone then.” He tried to gently dislodge her but she held fast. She remembered how careful he had been with her when she had scrapped her knee. If he was hurting then she wanted to help.

“But you are hurting now. I saw your face. You looked like Papa did when Clover kicked him.” She released his arm and glared up at him.

“It’s not a pretty sight, Miss and is a little scary.” He said.

She stamped her foot. “I’m not a baby anymore and if you hurt I want to help.”

Thomas looked at her face. “Yes, I believe you do but careful, Miss.”

He slowly brought his hand forward and unclenched his fist.

She stared at the mess that was his hand. It was red and scarred in the palm spreading out from the center of his palm. It was horrible. It made her want to cry.

“What happened?” Her voice shook.

He looked sad. “It’s not a story fit for a young girl’s ears. I’ll just say that it was a long time ago.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “But if it was so long ago why does it hurt still?” She wished she could take back the question as soon as she asked it. Something that ugly had to pain him all the time.

He flexed his hand. “It doesn’t hurt all the time, Miss. Just sometimes in the cold.” She didn’t believe him.

She stared at it a tentatively reached out a hand to touch the damaged skin. It was rough and bumpy under her fingers and she traced a ridge from his palm to the side.

She remembered how much her knee had hurt but that had to be nothing compared to this. Tears gathered in her eyes.

“Oh Miss Sybbie, don’t you cry over me. I’m sorry. I’m alright I promise.” He pulled his hand back from her but she pulled it back.

“Papa says kisses make the pain go away.” Before he could yank his hand away she planted a big smack on his hand and peered up at him.

“Better?” She wanted it to be better but she could see the lie in his eyes when he said yes.

“Better. Now let’s get you inside before Nanny notices you gone.” He pulled the glove over his hand as she watched. 

She was careful to walk on the other side of him holding his ungloved hand as they went inside but she couldn’t keep the sight of his hand out of her mind.

Instead of going up to the nursery though she went to find her Papa who could make everything better. She isn’t supposed to both him when he is working but she needed her Papa

He was sitting in his office reading papers when she ducked through the door.

“Darling, what are you doing here?” He put down the paper and waved her over to him.

“What do you do when someone hurts and kisses don’t help?” She climbed into his lap and snuggled close.  
“Kiss always help. Are you hurt?” His hands started to examine her for injuries. 

She shook her head. “Not me.” She doesn’t know if she should tell about Thomas’s hand but thinks that she can’t help if she doesn’t.

“Then who?” She sat up and looked at his face.

“I saw Thomas’s hand.” She whispered quietly.

“It hurts him and I kissed it but it didn’t help. Don’t be angry.”

Her Papa looked surprised. “He showed it to you?”

She shrugged. “I asked. He didn’t want to.”

“Oh Sybbie. You shouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to. You don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. He doesn’t show it to anyone, Darling.” Her Papa rocked her a bit.

“How do I help him?” She whispered.

“Oh just like your mother you are. I’ll think of something for him and let you know.” He kissed her head.

“Now I have to get back to work. Want to sit with me while I finish?” She nodded against him. He Papa would fix it. He could fix anything.

Later that night:

Thomas leaned against the wall in the yard trying to flex his hand. He had been so busy preparing for the holidays that he had been unable to keep up with exercises to keep it limber and the cold had stiffened the muscles until it was painful to just straighten his fingers. He had swallowed his pride and asked to be excused from serving drinks after dinner. Carson had wanted an explanation and Thomas held out his hand, fingers contorted into a claw shape. Carson for once had understood and said no more about it.

“Here.”

Thomas flinched and turned his head to see Branson holding a jar out to him. He straightened up and tucked his thankfully gloved hand behind his back. 

“Mr. Branson.” He ignored the jar for the moment. There was only one reason the man would seek him out tonight and it wasn’t going to end well for Thomas.

“It’s liniment. For your hand.” Branson held the jar closer to Thomas.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Branson.” He said, slight sneer in his voice.

Branson exhaled hard. “Sybbie told me about your hand. It will help relax the muscles and ease the pain. Just take it.”

Thomas stood at attention. “My hand is fine, Mr. Branson.”

“Then why was my daughter in tears about how much pain you were in? It must have been bad for anyone to catch you with that off.” He gestured to Thomas’s left arm.

Thomas stood silently, showing this man’s daughter his weakness was one thing, admitting it to him was something else entirely.

“She reminded me of Sybil so much today when she came to find me. She wanted to help so badly. I was surprised that at five she could be that empathic. But that’s Sybil through and through. She wanted to help. Take it for her sake, if not your own.”

Thomas wavered. It was cold and his hand hurt so badly he wasn’t sure he could get his glove off.

“Please let me help you just this once. We can go back to being whatever we are tomorrow but for my daughter’s sake and late wife’s let me help you just this once.” Branson took a step closer.

They stood together in the cold night, statues. Thomas was about to reject the offer of help when his hand spasmed so hard, he yelped.

“Oh get off your high horse.” Branson grabbed his arm and pulled it into the light. Thomas was in too much pain to protest.

“Now let’s see here. Your glove is tight but I think we can ease it off.” Holding Thomas’s hand gently in his own hand, he eased off the glove with the other.

Thomas turned his head so he didn’t have to see the look of disgust on Branson’s face. He couldn’t bare it.

“There we go. Now let me get the jar.” Branson thick brogue wrapped itself around Thomas, giving him something to focus on.

“One of the horses cut up his foreleg on a bit of broken fence. He was fine of course but got scarred up but good. We used this on him for a fortnight and he was right as rain.”

Thomas jerked his head back around to glare at Branson. “You are using horse liniment on my hand?”

The outrage have him something else to think about then Branson’s warm calloused hands massaging his hand. The pain was slowly easing.

“If it works it works.” Branson continued to slowly manipulate Thomas’s hand. Finally Thomas could straighten his fingers.

“There now. Isn’t that better?” Branson let his hand go and handed him the jar. “Use this twice a day on it and it should ease.”

He turned to walk away.  
“Thank you, Mr. Branson.” Thomas said reluctantly.

Branson turned around and smiled slightly. “I like know that you are looking out for her. “

Thomas inclined his head. “She’s easy to look out for. “ The euphoria of being in less pain softened him.

“Like her mother.” Branson nodded and went back to the house, leaving a slightly bemused but somewhat pain free Thomas in his wake.


End file.
